


Mending Fur

by RhysWilde



Category: Star Fox Series
Genre: Angst, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Survival, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-11-14 00:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18042374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhysWilde/pseuds/RhysWilde
Summary: Waking up in a destroyed ship, Wolf O'Donnell's will to live is tested in this short one-off story about survival against the greatest of odds. Takes place in a post-64, pre-Adventures timeline.Rated M for blood, violence and mild adult language.





	1. Chapter 1

                The will to live is both the strongest and most irrational emotion that any living being is capable of manifesting, in some cases even stronger than the body’s own ability to sustain life. Even when presented with the most overwhelming adversity one could imagine, one that would result in certain death, the body’s will to live still couldn’t be completely snuffed out. It can manifest hope out of nothing, possibilities where none were before simply because accepting death as an option is inconceivable to it. For most this didn’t amount to much, life was a given and they’d go through it never encountering something that would dare contest that. But… In particular lines of work… Learning to harness this bond was mandatory for survival. The more you strained and tested it, the more you learned the true extent of your limits. Here, akin to a flower growing between the lines in the pavement in a bustling metropolis, a more material life sprang to be in a place it had no business being. This was one such individual who’d tested it a lot.

                An unhealthy flurry of coughs laced with spatterings of blood signified his awakening as, against all odds, Wolf O’Donnell’s consciousness sparked back into existence in his lifeless body. While they never properly conveyed the amount of pain and suffering he had to go through to get there, there were truths to be found in the campfire tales told of him being unkillable. Though, sometimes he wished that weren’t the case. Having just finished crawling out of hell being thrust into a new one wasn’t exactly ideal and immediately as the grey dog awoke his senses were overwhelmed with a mix of pain and confusion. He lunged forwards in his chair repeatedly as the uncontrollable coughing fit tried to force its way out between dry, smoky breaths. Whatever he’d gone through already, there was clearly much further left to go.

                It didn’t help with Wolf’s confusion when he realized he couldn’t see either. His single-eyed vision was blurry; surrounded by hazy, suffocating air that stank of sulfur and assaulted by flashing red emergency lights. A deafening ring in his ears drowned out almost everything, everything except the broken alarm useless blaring at him over and over again. Something had to stop. In the midst of his coughing fit he flailed an arm towards the source of the sound and ended up putting his fist through some electronics which, brutish as it may be, at least worked to silence it. Eventually his lungs decided that he’d had enough and allowed him to catch as good of a breath as was possible considering the circumstances, letting him fall back against the headrest and finally start to take in his surroundings. Wolf’s shell-shocked memory failed him as he tried to quickly compartmentalize what was going on, in spite of being in the familiar seat of his Wolfen’s cockpit everything seemed foreign. He had no idea how he got here nor how long he’d been here for; the only things that were obvious were the sharp, gunshot-like pain in his chest and the fact that something had gone critically awry.

                The buttons and toggles adorning the control panel in front of the pilot’s seat were smeared with still-wet blood, that’s not to mention the ones directly in the middle that were just completely obliterated. Their plastic keycaps were smashed into pieces and a few chunks of white/grey fur were stuck to them. Considering the throbbing in his skull and onset confusion, Wolf was able to put one and one together to conclude that those buttons were probably destroyed by his head. A quick touch of a finger to his forehead was rewarded with a nerve-shattering sting, all but confirming his assessment. _“…Shit…_ ” He rasped out as he looked at his finger pad, now decorated with his own blood. An accident of this severity probably could have been avoided if he were following protocol but Wolf was far too stubborn to ever wear his seatbelt. Or wear any safety gear for that matter.

                Using the same finger as before he traced the pattern of blood that was traveling down through his fur, just by feel alone he could tell this was bad. The left side of his muzzle was matted and damp all the way through, the sickening warmth the accompanied it was uncomfortable to say the least. It went through his neckfur and was starting to stain the pilot’s uniform next, he could feel his shirt sticking to his chest. It felt like so much had come out that it was a wonder he’d even woken up at all. But Wolf’s resolve was too strong to let something like this get the better of him, it didn’t scare him so much as it did annoy. Being thick-headed came with its benefits sometimes.

                The stubborn canine did his best to gather his nerve. This looked dire from every angle but he wasn’t one to give up easily, if there was even a sliver of hope somewhere he’d pry it open into a doorway. So, trying to think through the pain for now, he began to plot how he was going to make sure this metal prison didn’t become his coffin. Death might be an inevitability but at the very least he knew he wasn’t going to let that happen trapped here like a pathetic runt. Looking past the overstimulation he mentally compiled what he saw to be facts. One; he was injured, possibly in more ways than one, and losing a lot of blood on top of that. Two; he was in his own cockpit. And three; the canopy glass overhead was unusually blacked out, likely with something weighing it down from the outside. But maybe it would still…

                 Wolf started frantically wiping the blood off of the control panel so that he could read the labels again, most of it just ended up smearing around. Either way, he kept up until he found the seldom-used button that read “emergency cockpit ejection”, crossed his fingers and then jammed his thumb into it. Maybe, just this once, life would cut him some slack and this would work like it was supposed to… And to his surprise that wish appeared to be granted. A hissing noise rushed from the lid’s seal as the depressurization began; suddenly everything was looking a bit clearer as the smoke-filled air that he’d been breathing was rushed out of the ship and replaced by fresher air from the outside. After the first step was finished it was time for the hydraulics to kick into gear and from the sound of things they really didn’t want to. Strained to their max they squealed loudly as they tried their hardest to pull the canopy up with whatever was adding resistance from above. Wolf watched from his chair, clutching at the pain that seemed to be all over his body as the rumbling glass started to move in front of him. A gap in the seal formed and very gradually creeped wider, allowing a much-needed ray of daylight to break through for one teasing moment.

                But as was life for a Star Wolf member, nothing was ever quite as easy as it should be. After just two inches or so of clearance had grown the hydraulic system screeched to a sudden halt and lingered there for what seemed like ages. Wolf looked on in anticipation, rooting it on in his mind. He needed this to work, because if it didn’t… There was a train of thought there but without warning it was interrupted with a loud, explosive ‘ _bang_ ’. The hydraulics gave up and slammed shut all over again with a force strong enough to shake loose some whatever was on top. All around the ship the sounds of stone and rubble plinking off of metal rained down.

“God **DAMNIT**.” Wolf burst out with a punch to the flight stick. He hadn’t realized how dry and raspy his throat was until just now too, a mix of dehydration and smoke inhalation had left his mouth a wreck. But not one to leave things up to fate, the tired canine immediately stood to the task of taking things into his own hands. He leaned upright in his seat and put both paws on the inside of the cockpit lid, testing its resistance with a few gentle pushes. Maybe this would work. Well, it had to. The cockpit was the only way out after all. Wolf moved to rise from his chair intent on applying a bit of extra force, but the second his core muscles tensed to help him stand the piercing pain he’d been debilitated by moments before came rocketing back through him, sending him tumbling back down on his tail. An uncharacteristic whimper snuck out from between his lips, almost like a higher power was reminding the hurt captain to stay humble. Everybody has their limits.

                But in the face of his own mortality, there wasn’t a chance that Wolf was about to let something as trivial as pain hold him back. So he gritted through it and took a mental step back to recompile his thoughts, intent on concluding all of the different ways this could end. It’s not like there were that many; escape by his own volition, which was looking less and less likely by the second – be discovered and rescued by a third party, which was also pretty unlikely – or… Bleed out slowly like a stuck pig, trapped in his own pen. While his ego was normally too big to resort to asking others for this kind of help, it was the only of the three that he wasn’t trying yet. If there was ever time for a distress signal it was probably now.

                Turning his head to look at it, the single-screened communicator facing the pilot’s seat had a large spiderweb-shaped crack on the surface now that wasn’t there before. This didn’t look very promising. But you could never know until you tried, so Wolf tapped the power button with his index-claw anyways. To no surprise it didn’t turn on, no response from the tuning dials either. Not even empty static. Even more disappointingly the handheld communicator kept in his pocket didn’t fare much better; in fact when he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve it, it came out in multiple pieces. At least there was somewhat of a golden lining here – Wolf could at least find a bit of reprieve in the knowledge that he wasn’t going to die looking like a coward, in the midst of begging somebody else for help. Leave that to the filthy Cornerian curs.

                Hopes dashed but spirit still alive, Wolf started rummaging around the pilot compartment desperate to unearth something that might buy his way out. There were some emergency supplies kept in the storage area behind the cockpit chair but it’d been a while since he’d properly had it indexed so his memory of its contents was hindered. That was a decision he was regretting now. One way or another there had to be something useful; maybe a blasting cap to blow the lid open, or even just a simply goddamn crowbar. With his limited stock those desires would prove unfulfilled, but there were some things of value still. Emergency food/water rations, his weaponry, flares and a medical kit. He took the kit into his lap and for the first time since this whole ordeal started, felt some degree of relief.

                It wasn’t much to look at, but medical supplies owned by an elite mercenary like Wolf O’Donnell were substantially different than a Cornerian military counterpart’s. The outside was mostly the same, just a red pouch that unzipped to reveal a few large pockets full of sorted goods. Almost everything was going to be useful here and the captain thumbed through it like a kid at a candy store. The first to go down was the baggie full of painkillers, prescription and otherwise, swallowed dry like it were a dog’s second-nature. Next came a thick roll of bandage tape and gauze and last… Last was the thing he’d almost forgotten about owning entirely. A special package he’d picked up many years ago which had just sat here on the off-chance that it might be needed one day. Well, that day was today. Wolf took it into his paw, an unlabeled white autoinjector syringe with a capped needle, and set it aside for now. That could be for later, the torrent of blood from his head gash would need tending to first.

                Bandage tape in maw and gauze in hand the determined canine reached up to his fresh wound and felt around at its size with a finger-pad. Maybe it was for the best that he couldn’t see the thing because from touch alone it was definitely more grievous than initially thought. From what he could tell it was right in the middle of his forehead and about the size of his full index finger, angled downwards enough to travel from above his right eyebrow to below the left, hence why the blood was coating the left side of his face. No way something like this was going to heal naturally, stitches would be mandatory but lacking the skill to do that with no vision on it, taping it up would have to do until he found some Venomians again. Or a mirror if he were feeling tough enough.

                Wolf licked the fresh blood off of his finger before using both paws to pack the wound with gauze, pressing it in place as he started to wrap the bandage around his head. The patch-up job was anchored in place using his ear, alternating between wrapping above and below it. There wasn’t enough time to properly sterilize or use antiseptic either, but the problem of potential infection would be for tomorrow’s Wolf. Today’s had to do whatever it took to escape. What remained of the roll was cut with a sharp claw and tossed back into the bag.

                At least the easy part was done now, he was still bleeding but hopefully the gauze would cause it to clot up soon. Wolf grimaced as he turned his attention back towards the autoinjector he’d put aside moments before. There was the hard part. He took it into his palm and turned it over a couple times, looking it over as best he could in this miserable red lighting to see if there were any obvious cracks in the glass. It looked safe enough, outside of the possibility that it had expired while sitting under this seat for the last few years. But there was no way to tell and in the midst of his fight-or-flight response, he didn’t really care anymore either. The cockpit was gradually filling back up with smoke and the claustrophobia was beginning to sink in, he’d be dead one way or another. Internally counting to three to prepare himself, Wolf bit the cap off at the third count and jabbed the needle end straight into his thigh muscle.

                Using epinephrine in this kind of emergency was never something a Cornerian would do, not only was it unreliable but in most cases, it was fatal too. But nonetheless the few success stories that came from its use kept it alive as a seldom-discussed trick among mercenaries in the underbelly of the Venomian piloting scene. The claim was that it could take you beyond the body’s natural limits for physical punishment, give the user an extra ‘boost’ that would allow them to ignore whatever pain they felt and keep going even when they shouldn’t. Its use wasn’t widespread because outside of fringe situations, most times it would give a vulnerable heart immediate cardiac arrest instead. Wolf had never personally recommended it to anybody, nor had he even talked about it with his crew, believing that it was pointless. But this situation was dire enough that even the incredibly stupid idea of injecting an old bootlegged syringe full of a high dose of chemicals seemed like a good one.

                To Wolf’s surprise it did its job too, well… The first part of it at least. As soon as it was nestled firmly into his dense thigh muscle the plunger pushed downwards, forcing the serum out of the barrel and into his mangled body. To say it was immensely painful was an understatement, his maw was agape as he panted out his suffering and stared down at it. Having such a large quantity of something sent straight into the muscle tissue like that was intense and almost immediate was the worry that something had gone wrong. But… As he watched and waited, toes curled in his boots in pain, eventually that subsided. It subsided and was replaced by a warm tingle, one that was almost more concerning than the last phase was. But it didn’t stop there. Slowly the sensation rooted into him and started to grow upwards through his leg, creeping into the other parts of his body. Now the heat was getting uncomfortable.

                Wolf could feel his heart beat climbing as his pulse sped up, some kind of power was definitely brewing and despite having initiated it he wasn’t quite so sure if it was welcome or not. It crawled up his spine and reached out to the tips of each nerve ending, causing them to buzz with a numbing sensation that was similar to the one felt when a limb falls asleep. Except this was all over. Legs, arms, torso, neck… The more it spread the more intense it felt, like a hive of angry hornets multiplying underneath his fur.

 _“What the hell have I done…”_ The canine muttered to himself as he looked down at his trembling paws, whatever injuries he’d sustained were obviously still there but this new feeling, neither pain nor pleasure, was drowning out everything else. He could no longer feel them. All he could feel was this rush and admittedly, once you got used to it, it was exhilarating. A rush like the one you’d experience during a fight or after outfoxing one of the best pilots in the galaxy. Wolf’s chest heaved as his body demanded more oxygen to supply all of this energy but the smoke-contaminated air around him had less to offer. Whatever he had to do, it was imperative to do it now.

                His first test of this new sensation went well as he ripped the injector out of his thigh and felt nothing for it, that was a good starting point to gauge how well this might go. Pushing the boundaries again he looked up to the cockpit glass, it wasn’t tall enough to fully stand in here so he gingerly lifted himself from his seat as much as the head clearance would allow for. To his surprise, in spite of the severity of his injuries, he was capable of standing. It was impossible to tell if it was due to his toughness or just sheer luck, but it was starting to look like he might end up being one of the few who’d used this stuff and lived to tell about it. If he got out that is.

                Wolf mashed his upper-back against the cracking glass and pushed his palms up above his head for some extra leverage. Spilling over with renewed vigor, the canid’s blood-stained teeth glistened red as he gritted and, with a slowly escalating growl, began to tense up. Using every working muscle in his body he forced himself into the canopy, growing to a point where he was using as much strength as could be mustered in his current state. Ears folded back and tail tucked, almost as a defiance against the natural order of things, he made the cockpit start to budge. The rocks and dirt that were suffocating the lid started to crumble off to the sides all over again, clinking off of the Wolfen’s armor as they rained down. Those sounds intermingled with straining metal and cracking glass, filling the tiny space like an earthquake as everything hoisted up on the captain’s remarkably robust shoulders.

                Remarkable as it was though there was no way this could be kept up forever, Wolf could feel the limits of his body rapidly approaching as his strength drained, but he couldn’t stop now. There was a sliver of space forming, a doorway to the outside world taunting him and motivating him to take this further and further… Finally, when he reached the point where his body was only moments from failing him the desperate dog threw out a final Hail Mary. This actualized as an ear-piercing bark and a strong heave that utilized whatever energy he had left in him, knocking Wolf back down into his chair as a result.

                This didn’t result in the lid snapping open like he may have wanted, but what he got still might’ve been enough. His display of strength displaced a huge amount of rubble off of the lid which decimated its weight, as a result the hydraulics miraculously were able to catch again and took over from there. Laboriously, the piston extended outwards and while it complained with a loud screech the entire time it was made to work, the job slowly but eventually got done. The canopy was pulled into its full upright position at a 45-degree angle; letting in a rush of clean, fresh air. It was nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

                As soon as it was open a tired grey wolf climbed up and collapsed over the side of the cockpit, half of his body still inside as his torso flopped out onto the metal. His cheek pressed against the cold, dirty paneling with his tongue out – panting and rendered completely limp. Even with that extra adrenaline flooding through his nervous system it wasn’t enough to get the job done, he counted what few blessings he had that the ship’s hydraulics were built as well as they were. The damage he might’ve done to himself by pressing his injuries this far could still prove to be fatal, well… A lot of things could still prove to be fatal. But the warm beam of orange-yellow daylight gracing his fur and the wind tickling his nose reminded Wolf was this was all for. If he was going to die, it would be on his own terms.

                Knowing that the rest he enjoyed now was well-deserved, he was able to take a moment to observe his surroundings as best he could from where he lay. Wolf’s single red eye was dilated and unsteady but he could still roughly make out where he’d ended up. From looks alone it appeared that his Wolfen had crash landed in the middle of a wide abandoned street; the nose of the ship was almost entirely embedded in the concrete and there was a large gash leading up to where it currently lay – stone and rubble tossed all over. Judging by the way it still covered the rest of the ship it looks like the cockpit lid was entombed in the kicked-up chunks of concrete and a shower of dirt. Say what you will about the Wolfen but a lot of other fighters would have just exploded on impact. It couldn’t be argued that it was a hearty, well-made vessel at its very core. Wolf spent the next few minutes enjoying the fruit of his labor until he once again felt recuperated and was able to take to his feet, climbing the rest out the way out to mount the bow of his destroyed pride.

                There didn’t seem to be life for miles as everything around was completely abandoned, torn asunder by war or whatever else had ravaged this area. Like in any other city buildings and parking lots lined the sides of the road but here they were all uninhabitable; either reduced to rubble, boarded up or both. Old abandoned vehicles littered the street with blown out windows, glass carpeting the floor. Wolf sighed, this kind of stuff wasn’t an uncommon sight on a planet sandwiched between Venom and Corneria, all things considered they were the real victims of this seemingly never-ending conflict. Conflict was even raging on still; miles and miles overhead, so far into the stratosphere that they could no longer be seen, the sounds of a distant dogfight still rang out. Engine screeches, flashes of light and accompanying explosions polluted the sky.

                With the most immediate obstacle to his survival overcome Wolf’s memory finally started to come back to him, the sensory overload and urgency of survival holding it at bay before. Pivotal moments that came to slowly like a slideshow of his failures, both in the fight and of his responsibilities to his team.

“…That fox.” Wolf growled as he stared off into the distance, curling his fingers into fists. “That crafty goddamn bastard of a fox had his way with me AGAIN.” He punctuated his sentence by punting a dirt clump as hard as he could with his steel-toed boot. This whole situation was entirely avoidable too, that was the worst part - it was just a job and not even one he accepted out of necessity. The warchest of money he’d been paid during his involvement of the Lylat Wars was enough to fund the team’s continued existence for the rest of their lives three times over. He accepted it because he was _bored_.

                After the death of Andross and with him, Wolf’s loyalty to the Venomian army, he didn’t hold any stake in this conflict anymore. He was free to pursue any path he wanted to go down but, seeing now that he was acting like an ignorant pup, he refused to just relax for a bit and kept taking government contracts. Not only were they the most interesting but they also paid the best, which was definitely a motivating factor even despite the aforementioned warchest. The market was flooded so there were plenty to choose from and most of the times he picked well for Star Wolf’s size and skill, to this point they hadn’t suffered any losses and got a full payout every time. This one in particular was just another bodyguard assignment, those tended to be pretty quiet so a surprise visit from the Star Fox kids wasn’t anything they were prepared for. Getting jumped by fighters as advanced as the Arwings were was basically a death sentence.

                Regardless, the fact that he was breathing at all was a victory in Wolf’s eye. Some called him lucky to survive his last few encounters with Star Fox but he knew that luck had nothing to do with it. Real men make their own luck; he’d done it countless times before and that’s precisely what he had to do now. He was free now but that wasn’t enough, never satisfied with what he had he extended the goal out to finding find Leon and Panther. After all, his own survival was worthless if they didn’t survive as well… But that was easier said than done. Any and all methods of long-distance communications that he had were shot, the only option would be to abandon all of the technological crutches and go back to the basics. The old-fashioned way of tracking.

                Chest heaving, Wolf swore under each breath as he scanned the abandoned city’s cloudy orange skyline, looking for any clue as to where his teammates might’ve fallen. There wasn’t much to go off of and with the speed/altitudes that they were fighting it, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that they could be many, many miles away. But there was one thing to go off of, it wasn’t exactly reliable but it was more than nothing. There were some pillars of smoke climbing above the buildings in the horizon, serving as a beacon indicating that something may have crash-landed here earlier. While it could realistically be anybody that was in their dogfight, he prayed that two of them belonged to Wolfens. Lord knows that an old dog like Wolf could never catch a break, but maybe just this once karma would lay off with the punishment.

                Before starting off on his journey he crawled back into the cockpit and took with him whatever he could find that might offer some help. His signature firearm and knife were the first and most obvious picks, slotting his blaster into its hip-holster and the knife into its sheath on his lower back. Wolf had never been a man who placed huge importance on emergency supplies so the rest of what he was able to scrounge together was unimpressive. The recently-used medical kit, a few dry food rations, a bottle of water (promptly opened and halfway chugged) and then a tightly folded space blanket. All together it didn’t amount to much but it was still better than nothing. He tucked it all into a bag that was then slung over his shoulder as he dismounted the Wolfen, both boots slamming firmly onto the concrete.

 

“Hey-… Hey! Captain! We’ve got a live one, right over here!”

 

And just like that, within seconds of finding his footing karma came knocking all over again, apparently intent on not letting Wolf leave this hell in one piece. The grey-muzzled captain froze up as the voice rang out from behind him, causing his ears to tweak in its direction. Nothing could just go the way he wanted it to, could it?

 

“Hey don’t move! Drop that gun on the floor and put your hands in the air, asshole!”

 

                 The sound of a rifle’s bolt being charged put emphasis on this command. Knowing it wasn’t smart to argue with somebody who may or may not have a gun pointed straight into your back and also may or may not have a friend nearby, Wolf sighed out a stressed breath and reluctantly did as he was told. He looped a finger through his handgun’s trigger guard and slowly dragged it out of its holster, plopping it down on the road with a clatter as soon as it was free. It didn’t look like they saw his knife though, tucked away under his jacket as it was. His arms were still shaking and numbed from the influx of adrenaline coursing through his veins but he raised them in the air regardless, careful not to show off his waistband.

 

“Alright, now turn around. But do it slowly! I don’t wanna see any sudden movements.”

 

                Once more he did as he was told. Wolf was resilient but he wasn’t stupid, there wasn’t any other choice but to play their game right now. Turning around to face his captors, as soon as they saw who they were in the presence of the closest one lowered his gun, expression changing from domineering to awe-struck.

“Holy shit, is that Wolf O’Donnell?” He exclaimed, squinting to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. The pair were obviously Cornerian, their kind refused to hide it. Helmets, vests and weapons were steel-silver and green, emblazoned all over with the symbol of their allegiance. The fact that they were completely clean and put-together nicely gave away that they weren’t survivors like he was, they were a clean-up squad. Probably sent to make sure any surviving pilots were brought back to Corneria to pay for their crimes.

“Oh my god I think it is.” The second replied, equally astounded. Unsurprisingly they were both mutts of some kind, one taller with a snout like a Doberman and the other some kind of middling mixed-breed. Purebreds were getting rarer and rarer these days. “I don’t believe it. Wolf O’Donnell. Standing right here in front of me. In the flesh.” A snide smile formed on his maw as he lowered his rifle as well, looking at the state Wolf was in it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that he wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight. “All that blood belongs to you, don’t it? God you’re a mess, legendary face like that and I still almost couldn’t recognize it. You look like you’re barely standing.” His own childish mocking made him snicker. Wolf looked down at himself for the first time since getting out into the daylight, with his heart racing as it was he’d almost forgotten how bad of a shape he was in. His pilot’s outfit was normally a smooth, flat black with metal studs and reddish-purple highlights adorning various places, right now though it was looking more reddish than it was purple. The front of his shirt and jacket were stained almost all the way down to his belt with sticky red blood. The smoke seemed to have seeped in too, any bright highlights that used to be were now caked in a layer of smoggy filth, muting any striking appearance they may have had. And that was only on the outside, lord knows how severe his internal injuries were.

“Please, you have to help me…” With the raspiest voice he could muster the captain made a plead for his life, tail tucking between his thighs and ears drooped. “You have to… I- I can’t die here…” It was remarkably pathetic for a man of his stature, the Cornerians seemed to like that.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stand still and get your hands behind your back scumbag.” The larger Doberman-looking canine commanded, snapping a pair of handcuffs off of his belt loop. Wolf promptly complied, obediently crossing his paws behind him. The pair stepped forwards with the arresting officer crossing behind to start to restrain him, his partner on the other hand couldn’t resist the temptation of shoving a bit of dirt in the legendary pilot’s nose. He stepped right up into Wolf’s face, a big devilish grin plastered across his maw.

“You’re not lookin’ so tough anymore now, are you big guy? Beggin’ us for help like that…” He snickered, sizing his captive up and down. His breath smelled bad but not in any specific way. “There’s rumors out there that you’re invincible you know, the people talk you up somethin’ fierce - make you sound like a real scary guy. I should’ve known that legends don’t exist outside of storybooks, deep down you’re just another pathetic coward like the rest of the filth from Venom.” Feeling like he’d made his point, the dog hocked up and spat on Wolf’s spiked boot. “Untouchable my ass. You stink like shit.”

 

That was enough, the man had clearly dropped his guard by getting this close to him and they were both going to regret it. Wolf didn’t have to place nice anymore, they closed the gap for him.

 

                Moments before the cuffs would have been slapped onto his wrists Wolf wrenched his arm free from the other’s grip and went to unsheathe his hidden knife. To his surprise, his fingers simply brushed past where the hilt should have been. The sheath itself was there, but what it should have contained was not. His racing heart skipped a beat, it was definitely there just a few seconds ago – he could distinctly remember feeling the weight and size of it under his belt. But now it wasn’t… And unfortunately he didn’t have any time to dwell on it. He had to think on his toes if he wanted to get out of their custody but to his advantage, the ability to think on his toes was one of Wolf’s strongest assets.

                With no reservations and as much strength as he could muster Wolf plowed his kneepad into the gut of the Cornerian dog who stood before him, the unpredicted stun to his diaphragm causing him to double over and hobble backwards with a labored wheeze. Pushing his advantage on this one before his partner could intervene, Wolf lunged forwards with redoubled vigor and raked a spiteful hand full of claws up across the right-side of his face. His strike was wide, slashing him open from his collarbone, across his muzzle and all the way up to his forehead. Blood streaked across the floor and his helmet was sent flying away, the mutt himself knocked onto his back. The previously cocky pup was quickly brought down to reality, his words reduced down to a scream as he squirmed and clutched his face. His rifle had fallen out of his grip, skidding across the concrete away from them.

                Clearly underprepared for this kind of opposition the arresting soldier fumbled with his holster in a panicked state as he watched his partner collapse, he’d slung his rifle around his back to apply the handcuffs so now the handgun would have been a faster draw. That is, if he could figure out the retention locks with his grip trembling like this… Not an easy feat when surprised and under duress. It took a couple extra seconds longer than usual but eventually he got it free; hands on the grip, safety disengaged and raised it up to aim. But by this point he was too late, Wolf was three steps ahead. His buddy’s rifle was already trained on him and without hesitation the grizzled Star Wolf captain let out a five-shot volley, mercilessly pelting the Cornerian Doberman with plasma-charged rounds in both the chest and face. Just like that, without so much as a whimper the dog sunk down to the concrete.

                Panting profusely, Wolf’s vision darted all over to check for any kind of backup that might’ve heard their altercation. If these two were able to sneak up on him it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that there were more to the posse… But after the dust settled to naught but silence, he realized he was in the clear. At least for right now. It wasn’t really his style so Wolf hucked the brightly colored Cornerian rifle off to the side as he walked up to the first mutt that was dropped by his left-hook. By now he’d quieted down quite a bit but was still writhing and whimpering into his palms.

“This… This was the biggest mistake you could’ve made…” The Cornerian piped up as he was walked up on, each word laced with pain. Wolf just stared down on him, looming ominously over his prey. “If you just came with us, you would’ve lived… Now… Now you’re FUCKED.” He barked out. Being honest with himself Wolf couldn’t argue with that logic, harsh as his words were he was probably right. The epi shot had kept his body moving in the short term but after that wore off he had no idea how he might end up, but the future wasn’t exactly looking bright at this rate. The one thing he did know, though, was that his team was out there somewhere and he wouldn’t rest until he knew they were safe. The Cornerian opened his mouth again to say something but ate a punt straight to his jaw instead, rending him unconscious in one quick motion. It was better off this way.

 _“…Filthy animal.”_ Wolf muttered, wiping his boot off on the man’s jacket before turning away. Tired, injured and sore the greymuzzle sighed out his frustration as he switched his attention back towards the soldier that he’d riddled with plasma - there must have been some handywork going on behind his back, that knife went somewhere after all. He squatted down over his corpse and started to pat him down. There it was, it seems when Wolf was getting lectured this one took his knife away and tucked it into his waistband. He took it back and re-sheathed it, but that wasn’t all. With a bit more digging around it seems that karma did have a little bit of empathy.

                Wolf uncovered and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the man’s pocket. Miraculously, not only were they the brand that he preferred but most were still smokable too. He stole the Cornerian’s lighter next and lit one up in his muzzle, taking in a deep, much-needed drag of the sweet fumes and holding it in to let the nicotine tingle at his lungs. Amidst all of the pain and suffering surrounding him, it was nice to just enjoy a moment of much-needed reprieve. He made sure to collect his blaster from its place on the ground and re-holstered that as well, but before moving on one last thing caught his eye… A communicator. It was strapped to the Doberman’s shoulder and still looked like it was in pristine condition, luckily none of the bullets had hit it. Wolf got the received unhooked and looked it over.

                The private frequency that Star Wolf used had a long, complicated address but the number of times he’d entered it, it was burned into Wolf’s memory. He dialed it in one digit at a time, following that with the team’s encryption key when prompted to do so. It took some time to tune but as soon as it did… Nothing but static. He didn’t really know what he expected but it was worth a shot. Regardless, it was possible that somebody was still listening.

 

* * *

 

“Leon, Panther… I pray that you’re out there somewhere and can hear my voice. If you can, please… Do your best to stay close to your ships so I can find you, but you need to hide. You’re in danger. They came for me. They came for me and I stopped them, so it’s safe to say they’re coming for you too - but so am I. Stay safe. Stay safe and I’ll see you soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

                Resilient and stubborn as ever, the sights and scenes of the once-vibrant city passed by as the pained husk of a dog lugged his battered body on through it. Still on just the first leg of what could end up being a rather long journey, each hour already felt like it dragged on for centuries and with no way to track the exact amount of time he'd been out here for the only thing he could do was roughly approximate based off of Solar's position in the sky. Currently it loomed almost three-quarters of the way through the clouds overhead, a threatening reminder that daylight was a gift and not one to be squandered. Being that the only source of light he had on him was a butane lighter meant to be used with cigarettes Wolf knew that unless he bunkered down and waited, he wouldn't survive long after the sun went down. But the team was in jeopardy so that simply wasn't an option. He had to press his luck even harder.

                It wasn't long after his scrap with the Cornerians when the effects of the epinephrine subsided - he was thankful in the fact that without its help that cockpit might've turned into his coffin, but this journey was far from over. Fortunately that wasn't the only trick up his sleeve, the painkillers Wolf'd dry-swallowed earlier kicked in and were doing a decent job of retaining the last few drops in what used to be the lupine's endless well of strength and arrogance. But even with those propping him up, he was still nothing short of miserable. Now stripped down to his dirty black tank-top, the heat and physical exertion caused Wolf to sweat up a storm. His jacket could tie snugly around his hips but the pauldrons and other fun adornments had to be left on the ground some miles back. As much as he liked them, lugging around an extra couple pounds of steel wasn't a good idea right now.

                Wolf's fur wasn't ever known to be well-brushed or groomed to perfection but now it was beyond fucked, to put it kindly. Any part of his pelt that wasn't matted together with dried up blood (either from himself or the Cornerians, it was impossible to tell) was damp and sticky with sweat instead. While whatever bleeding he'd found had been stifled for now, the wounds were all irritated and itchy instead - coagulated blood and sweat mixed about as well as oil and water. Most of the time when a Star Wolf member got injured on the job they could fix it up in-house (Leon had gotten especially good with these things) but now? He'd definitely have to plan a special visit to Space Base Sargasso, the expression on the doctor's face when he sees what he's gunna be working with would be something to look forward to without a doubt. But that would only be if he made it out of here alive, something that was still up in the air. So onwards Wolf marched, trying his best not to think about the rations he'd brought with him so that they'd last until he at least found the others. Then again, such delicacies as "Calorie Block" and "Dry Protein Bar" were tough to resist.

                A purebred tracking animal by nature, even in his debilitated state the leader's mind was sharp enough to filter his search down to a point where it was manageable. He had to, there were so many potential crash sites planted so far apart from one another that checking them all would mean he'd be wandering this city for days. There were a few factors Wolf had considered, some based in logic and some just from pure instinct but the biggest thing he clued in on was the color of the smoke. Smoke is smoke and it's all black to a degree, but some more so than others. Darker meant denser, and powerful engines like those used in the Wolfen consumed so much fuel that in the event of failure it was much more catastrophic than something with less force behind it, so the difference even in the smoke it gave off was noticeable. Of course there was always the possibility that one of the Wolfens he was looking for was obliterated in a way where it had no emissions, in which case no amount of tracking that Wolf was capable of at his level would find it. But he tried to push that into the back of his mind, keeping the hopes high as he approached the final street corner between himself and his first crash site, praying as he rounded the block that his assumptions would prove fruitful.

                If Wolf believed in luck he'd say he were the luckiest man on this planet. It took a moment of disbelief to process what lay before him, but as soon as he did he started running. The sight was a dire one, but even still it was the best possible scenario he could have reasonably asked for. A burned out Wolfen was here, right on this block. But it wasn't entirely like his own experiences; this time it wasn't in the middle of the street, or even embedded in the sidewalk. No, only the engine and the wingtips were visible – protruding out from the wall of a large building that the nose and body of the fighter had been completely engulfed by. Rubble and shards of broken glass littered the pavement underneath the wreck, suspended somewhere between three to four stories up; a Wolfen could easily weigh in at more than a few tons, so it must have really came down hard for it to be this stuck. Wolf swore under his breath, he couldn't tell if it was better or worse this way.

                Running up to the building it was immediately apparent that getting inside wasn't going to be as straightforward as he'd hoped. Much like just about every other building passed by on the way here the front doors, as well as anything else that could be considered an entryway, was shut off completely. Padlocked chains wrapped the door handles to keep them shut and wooden boards were nailed anywhere they would fit, tarps and other things covering the windows too. It certainly didn't look open for business. On one hand the fact that it hadn't been cracked open was a good sign that the curs hadn't come through here yet, but on the other hand breaking into a building was something he hadn't had to do since graduating from the streets of Venom.

                Exasperated, Wolf growled under his breath as he got to work. He took a few moments to rummage through the rubble that the collision overhead had left piled on the sidewalk, eventually producing a particularly long piece of rebar that had been knocked loose. It was definitely no crowbar but since there wasn't exactly an abundance of those around, it would have to do. He paced the front of the building, weighing the pros and cons before finally settling on converting one of the larger windows into an entry point. The rebar was slotted into a gap between two of the wooden planks, angled for leverage and then wrenched on until the board was loosened to a point where Wolf could grab and wrench it with his hands. It took a lot more muscle than a tool more suitable for the job might, but it did work. Bent and damaged, it continued to just barely work until enough of the boards were removed to create a gap large enough to slip through. Well, he would've been able to slip through if there wasn't a pane of glass in the way, but glass hadn't ever stopped him before and after a swift jab with the grip of his pistol, it wasn't going to stop him now either. Mindful of any jagged edges left behind, the large canine weaseled his way on through the new opening.

                With no electricity and all of the windows sealed off, the interior of the building was a sharp contrast to the sun-drenched weather outside. Besides a few sun shafts that had snuck their way in here and there, it was as dark as could be. Wolf's eye took a long minute to adjust to the drastic change, but even after it had visibility wasn't that much better. The dense, stagnant air tickled at his sensitive dog nose - it was musky and positively reeked of a combination of sulfur and burning rubber. The collision from earlier must have really shaken the foundation since each inhale was accompanied with a healthy helping of dust and other particles that had been kicked up invading the lungs. Wolf protected his muzzle with his forearm as he ventured forth, intent on figuring out how he might be able to get up a handful of stories.

                As he wandered and gathered his bearings, it became apparent that before it'd been abandoned this was some kind of prestigious office complex. The lobby looked nice at least, it was large and floored with expensive looking tiling - not that that meant anything now though, it was heavily damaged by the layer of loosened roof fragments and dirt that covered everything else. Most of the furniture that once offered decoration ended up tossed asunder and the potted plants that might've livened everything up were little more than mulch now, a pity. Wolf's metal boots clanked loudly, echoing throughout the otherwise abandoned building as he took in the sights. Anywhere else he'd be concerned about being tracked, but here there was no question that he was all on his lonesome.

                The deeper he ventured the darker it got, until it was at a point where he had to idly drag a claw along the wall to make sure he could track where he was going. After a few minutes however he eventually found the (predictably) out-of-service elevators, followed by the stairwell close by. From the outside that Wolfen looked to be embedded in the third… Or maybe the fourth floor? It was such a wreck that it was tough to tell, but as soon as Wolf started climbing his way up any concerns he'd had were assuaged. Every step higher the air was noticeably muggier and the smell of smoke was more potent, permeating throughout everything until finally reaching a point on the fourth floor's landing where it was so thick that there wasn't a doubt that this was where he needed to be. It was honestly a little tough to breath, but either way he put his weight into the door's push-handle and journeyed through, fully unsure what might await.

                Down in the lobby one could still see the care and attention that went into the building, despite how long it'd been left abandoned there was still an heir of prestige that could be noticed among the drab. But just a few stories up, an entirely different story was being told. Black scorching was in abundance; the wallpaper curled and the carpeting was burned down to the foundation, accentuated by orange glowing embers that dotted the area like fireflies. Remnants of furnishings were left behind, incinerated to a point where they weren't much more than the components that constructed them. It was almost eerie, he'd walked into the period of calm after a storm – remains of a fire that burned incredibly hot and petered out quickly when the fuel stores depleted. There was no question as to what caused this either as just down the hallway, jutting through what looked like the remains of some kind of obliterated conference room, was a prime example of high-end Venomian engineering.

                The Wolfen had left a giant, gaping hole in the building that light flooded through, the entire body of the ship wedged firmly in place between the walls and floors. There's no way it was going anywhere now. Wolf rushed over to the wreckage; all of the Star Wolf ships were unique in that each member made subtle customizations to the paint or other minor things but it was all scorched to black now, past any point of recognizability. Beyond the cosmetic damage however, the ship seemed to be mostly intact. Some of the armor was stripped off on the nose due to the impact, and some panels were peeled back here and there but beyond that it was still whole. This would be an easy testament to how durable the Wolfen could be if it hadn't been shot out of the sky in the first place.

                As soon as he could Wolf jumped up onto the bow of the downed fighter and scrambled up towards the pilot's cabin. The first thing he noticed was the fact that the cockpit lid was still closed, a good sign in and of itself since that would indicate that somebody had to be inside, but he couldn't see through the canopy glass to tell who it was. Not only was it covered with rubble and other particles left from the wall it penetrated but anything left exposed was blackened by the roaring flames. To the canine's dismay, making out anything on the inside was impossible.

"HEY!" Wolf shouted out, his voice still raspy. He kicked the glass a few times with his heel to rouse up some noise. "IT'S WOLF, ANYBODY ALIVE IN THERE?"

…But nobody replied.

_"…Goddamnit."_  He growled swear words from between a set of tightly clenched teeth, emphasized by one more frustrated kick. There was somebody in here but if they weren't conscious (or heaven forbid, not alive), then getting them out would be a hell of a lot harder than Wolf'd planned for. He knew it wasn't exactly going to be a walk in the park, but something like this was a different story all together. The canine sighed, crossing his arms as he looked over his next task. There wasn't any way that this thing was going to open up with all the rubble covering it, so that stood out as the obvious starting point. Under normal conditions, shoving around a couple hundred pounds of loose concrete wouldn't be a big deal to a man of O'Donnell's stature but he was starting to feel maxed out now. This small obstacle looked a lot larger now.

                But either way some time, muscle and a healthy heaping of swear words were all it took to get the job done – at least one of which being something he had in excess. Wolf tried to stay hopeful that one he'd cleaned up this mess he might be able to get a better look inside, but the move he moved the more he realized that wouldn't be the case. The glass underneath was cracked all over in a spiderweb pattern, some of the smoke damage having crept up into it as well. There was no time to dwell on the disappointment however, he'd just have to move on to the next step which was actually breaking into the ship. Something like that sure sounded like a lot, especially for a spacecraft designed to protect the pilot in the midst of combat, but what kind of Venomian would Wolf be if he didn't know how to jack a ship? Now this wasn't really the same caliber of vehicle he'd busted into before, those generally fell under the definition of 'civilian class'. But the logic was still going to be the same and that's what mattered. Wolf unsheathed his knife and looked over his new canvas, compartmentalizing a plan of attack. Anybody's first guess would be to try and break the glass, but the glass used in these kinds of ships was so strong that unless you had a tool designed specifically for the task, you were probably out of luck there. A job like this required a bit more thinking than that.

                Any straightforward break-in had three different components that needed to be considered; the dense air pressure in the cabin, the hydraulics forcing the canopy closed and then the physical latch that secured it all in place. When the three worked together they got the job done well; rapid changes in atmosphere, sudden impacts, explosions… If the glass would hold then the rest of it would too. Each worked as a failsafe for the others in the event that something broke - but to somebody determined enough, aided by a bit of smarts and finesse, it wasn't unfeasible to get them picked apart one after another. So Wolf got right to work. Even in the face of everything else that he'd been subjected to, returning to the old days of petty thievery brought a small glimmer to the eye.

                Knowing how it normally took the longest to finish, the first task on the agenda would have to be exhausting the air pressure. To a lesser-trained eye the cabin might as well be a fortress, there weren't any obvious failure points for something like air to drain from – after all if there were that would be wildly unsafe. But as with many other things in life, there was a trick to it for those who were 'in the know'. Hunched over on his knees on the bow of the Wolfen the sweaty grey canine traced down to the point where the canopy cover met with the body of the ship. Being that they were two pieces of metal, after they converged the seal between them wouldn't be perfect - so to cover any potential micro-gaps a small groove had to be installed, bedded with a thick, rubberized material that nested everything together safely. With his knife at the ready, Wolf forced the tip down into this miniscule crevice, pushing it and working it back and forth until it couldn't sink in any further. Unfortunately this knife was probably going to be ruined by the end, but it had to be done. He muscled into it, angling the blade in a way that it might be able to carve out as much as possible.

_*Psssshhh…*_

                There it was, the tiny hole he'd bored was finally deep enough for the densely pressurized cabin air to squeeze through. An incredibly satisfying sound, Wolf couldn't stop a small smirk from creeping into the corner of his dog lips - he still had that magic touch. Technically even the smallest of gaps was enough to depressurize, but it would take an exorbitant amount of time in this state. So he started to drag the blade down the side, cutting as large of a hole as he could in the rest of the rubber seal until he reached the first corner. It still might take a few minutes but this was a good jumping off point, it would do its thing while he moved on. Comfortable with the results, Wolf drew his weapon back out and started mentally working out the logistics of his next obstacle, the hydraulics. Hydraulics were different in that in stark contrast to what he'd just done, they were far more dangerous. In most cases you wouldn't want to mess with a hydraulic line without the right tools and protection, but the great O'Donnell didn't get where he was today by obeying safety recommendations.

                The canine climbed up over the cockpit and down the other side, mounting a section of the engine block behind it; the armor here was thinner and some of the plates were latched, intending to be used as doors to various parts of the internals. No stranger to the inner workings of his own ships it didn't take long for Wolf to find the one he was looking for and subsequently smash the latch with one of the chunks of concrete he'd tossed on the ground earlier, wrenching it the rest of the way open with his hands. Inside it looked little different from under the hood of any other vehicle, just far more complex in construction. Knowing precisely what he was here for, the lupine pushed his arm in and blindly felt around for a few moments until his fingers grasped the right thing, pulling it past the rest of the components until it was fully visible front and center. At first glance it was just a simple tube; thick, black, and rubberized but the first thing that set it apart was how warm it was compared to everything else. Since the ship had been off for quite a while now and the fire long blazed out, everything else was cold. This served as a junction piece where both of the hydraulic fluid lines met and fed into each piston, heated because of all the liquid pressure it contained. Having a single point of failure could sometimes be convenient.

                Taking as many precautions as he could (which wasn't many), Wolf slipped the serrated part of his knife against the side of the tube that wasn't facing him and before he had any time to second guess how unsafe of an idea this was, made a swift cut. Immediately as it was incised a scalding hot yellow-orange oil exploded out of the line and began coating the internals of the Wolfen with a loud and fierce intensity. Not intending on getting his flesh removed by hydraulic fluid, the canine leapt off and backed away, observing as the built-up pressure emptied out and made a colorful, steaming mess all over. Even getting a little bit on you fresh out of the tube could burn down to the muscle if it hit you right, wasn't easy to wipe off either. But it was done now and if his memory served, without the fluid retaining the pressure the hydraulics were toast – weak enough to be manipulated by hand.

                Flicking the oil off of his blade, Wolf circled back around to the front of the Wolfen and hopped back up onto its body – metal-plated boots clanking as they met with the armor panels again. By this point the hissing from before had quieted down substantially, meaning the air inside the cockpit was equalized with the air outside of it. Two down and just one more to go. With fingers dug under the lip he gave it a tug or two, rewarded as the canopy gave an affirming budge. It was physically catching on something in the way now, so based off of feel alone just the lock was left standing between them and unfortunately for it, no lock had stood in the way of a determined Star Wolf member before.

                His trusty knife had done far more than its fair share of work already today but there was just one task left that presented itself - for now at least. Wolf squatted back down in the same spot as earlier and worked the knife tip back into the rubberized mass it had already punctured; because of the rest of what he'd done it was able to worm its way in quite a bit deeper – this time to a point where the whole length of the blade was roughly halfway deep. It was positioned a little closer to the center, right around where the latch would be snagging on the canopy to keep it from opening. The canine wiggled it around a bit until it was being stopped by something that felt solid and mechanical. That had to be it.

                Now despite the name some aspects of breaking-and-entering demanded finesse or dexterity as opposed to brute force, but this definitely fell squarely under the 'breaking' side of things. At least with the way Wolf liked to approach it. He got his knife positioned to where it was protruding out from the junction between the cockpit and the body, looking like a lever that was just waiting to be yanked.  _"Here goes nothing…_ " The lupine grumbled under his breath as he readied his body in a power stance and stared down at the target, letting himself focus and center his mind for a few moments. He might only get one clean shot at this, so making it a good one was imperative. Once he felt ready, Wolf took in a deep breath and used all of his mass to throw out a weighty stomp, nailing the heel of his boot down right onto the knife's awaiting handle. It came down hard, really hard.

                Impact vibrations rocketed up through Wolf's leg and accompanying that was a loud metallic twang, followed immediately after by something whizzing past his whiskers. The dog winced as he clasped the soreness in his thigh, glancing back over behind him to see what it was that had almost beaned him in the head. The mysterious object clanged around on the floor as it landed but he couldn't get an eye on it, so he disregarded it for now and moved his boot to check the damage. Underneath was the knife's hilt but with no blade attached to it, only a jagged edge left where a blade had snapped off from. Close call. But there was no time to count one's blessings and Wolf got right to work checking out the fruits of his labor. He bent down and dug his claws under the cockpit lid to give it a good lift, still no dice but it was almost there… Coming up roughly an inch or two before hitching again on what could only be assumed to be the broken remains of the lock. Just a little bit more effort...

                It was so close he couldn't let another minor obstacle deter him now, but Wolf had to admit to himself that he was fresh out of ideas. He didn't have anything else on hand that could easily be used as leverage and something like a plank of wood definitely wouldn't be strong enough. Obviously just shooting it with his gun would be a terrible idea too because of collateral… So being a man with more determination than he had brains, he reverted back to what he knew best. Wolf squatted his haunches down to his feet to get his center of gravity as low as possible, ears folded back against his head and tail stiff in preparation. He shuffled for a moment to get the correct amount of grip in the perfect position and once he'd found it, pulled up as hard and as fast as his muscles would allow. All of the muscle groups in his shoulders, thighs, arms and chest worked together to overpower whatever was left between him and the interior of this Wolfen and already damaged, the latch didn't last long. Finally it snapped in two with a resounding popping noise, leaving the cockpit lid loose on its hinges and thrown into an upright position. Normally this would be cause for celebration, but any adrenaline he'd gotten from finishing the job was cut short, feral blood freezing in his veins before any train of thought could be finished.

_"…Leon..?"_

                Before him lay the sight of a vulnerable chameleon, having now been freed from his captivity but still lying motionless in his pilot's chair. Wolf's enfeebled partner was collapsed forwards with his head drooping off to the side, the color deprived from his normally exotic and vibrant looking scales. Somebody more artistically inclined might almost appreciate how picturesque it was, a morbid painting of a beauty who'd met a tragic and wrongful demise. Wolf had been through a lot to get here but he still wasn't ready to face this kind of reality, the emotions welled up and quickly flowed over the dam that was his tough exterior.  _"Leon no, no god no… Shit…"_ The grief-stricken dog mumbled under his breath as he lowered himself down into the cockpit, closer to his fallen companion. A mindful paw was placed on Leon's chest to prop him back upright, head supported by cradling the back of his crown in the opposite palm. Wolf could feel his own heart audibly racing in his ears, drowning the rest of the world out. It was just him and his chameleon now and at first glance, things didn't look good.

                As he got a better view inside it was apparent that the cockpit was a lot cleaner than his own was when he awoke, no blood painting over the control panel or anything like that. In fact, the control panel was completely dark. All of the lights that should be illuminating the buttons and toggles were off, indicating that the Wolfen's battery must have failed probably as a result of the chemical fire from earlier. Wolf used a gentle finger on Leon's jaw to manipulate his head to the sides, looking him over for any obvious injuries… But there wasn't much, he at least hadn't slammed his head or anything like that. The vitals would have to tell the whole story. His scales felt unnaturally cold to the touch and when opened his large blue eyes didn't respond to any kind of stimuli but in spite of that, there was still a shimmering of hope that shined through. By some miracle his chest was moving, he was breathing. It was shallow, but nonetheless Wolf could feel each weak inhale and exhale against his palm. He thought this beautiful blazing torch was extinguished but in reality there was still a dim, flickering light left behind. It needed to be protected.

"I don't believe it…" Wolf muttered in astonishment, taking Leon's pulse next. It was consistent with his breathing, feint but still there. His heart was moving, unmistakably there was some semblance of life left to be salvaged from this wreck. "Gods… You're a tough little guy Leon, you know that..?" A growing smile accentuated the lupine's breathy voice. There were a good couple of moments there where he thought this was the end, all of their years of history together just brought to an abrupt halt. "I know you're probably tired, but I need you to keep this going, just for me." The next couple moments were spent in silence as Wolf just stared and appreciated him, running a single thumb claw affectionately over Leon's cheek-scales. He'd never felt happier to see this devious bastard in his life; lord knows that he could be tough to live with sometimes and pushed boundaries further than he should, but his unending loyalty and the connection they shared because of it was unlike any other. But as much as he wished this were it, locating his teammates was only half the battle and Leon was still only one of two. Panther was out there somewhere and for all Wolf knew, could be running out of time. The calm would have to wait until all of Star Wolf was reunited again.

                It was never a good idea to jostle somebody around who was unconscious, but there wasn't exactly a medivac right around the corner or anything, he had to make do with what he had. Trying to be mindful of that, Wolf grabbed hold of Leon by the underarms and attempted to deadlift him out of the seat. He didn't get far, however, stopped in his tracks almost immediately by the seatbelt still holding him in place - a sobering reminder that not everybody behaved as recklessly as he.  _"…Right."_  Wolf thought to himself. If the bandages constricting the entire left side of his face were any indicator, he was lucky his self-destructive habits didn't rub off on the others. Feeling a bit of pride in the chameleon's decision making, he unbuckled him first before continuing.

                Being such a big dog most others (outside of Panther) tended to run smaller than Wolf, but Leon especially so. Without clothes on the lithe reptile couldn't have weighed much more than 110lb so safely maneuvering him out of the Wolfen and laying him out comfortably on the floor didn't prove to be too challenging even now. Wolf removed the jacket from around his waist and bunched it up under the reptile's head as a makeshift pillow, murmuring as he did so.  _"There ya go…"_  Wolf felt fortunate in that at least nobody was around to see him acting like this, even Panther. There was a reputation to maintain after all.

                He wasn't a medical expert by any means but now that he was on his back and in the light, Wolf took another minute or two to look his partner over for any obvious or critical injuries. Beyond a couple of spots of dried up blood on the nose and front of the pilot's suit from what could only be assumed to be a nosebleed, he seemed to be in one piece. Leon's outfit was so tightly fitted it ended up being fairly revealing, so the fact that it wasn't torn or had any odd lumps or anything anywhere was a pretty good indicator that the chameleon didn't sustain a traumatic break or puncture. Wolf made an educated guess that it might've been whiplash from the impact and maybe smoke inhalation that reduced him to this state. It was only a minor detail in the grand scheme of things, but it still made him sad to see the reptile's long, winding tail not coiled up like it usually was, instead lying unfurled and limp off to the side. He ran a hand over it, sighing as he did so.

"I know you probably can't hear me right now, but for what it's worth…" Wolf's scruffy, smoke-drenched voice waivered as he held on the last thought, "I'm sorry about all this."

                It was imperative to keep the momentum rolling but the amount of supplies Wolf had in his bag were meager to say the least, and with no idea of how much longer he might be out here for… It was almost embarrassing to admit but the hunger in his gut was getting to a point where it was impossible to ignore. Generally he employed a hands-off approach to his team's personal effects, their things weren't his business to meddle in. Not only did he not have the time nor the care to, but having that kind of trust when you all lived and worked in such intimate proximity with one another was imperative to being a functional team. But in this case that policy would have to be put on hold, not that Leon would've care either way.

                Intent on scavenging up as much as he could to aid in his and his team's survival, Wolf clambered up into the pilot's seat of his partner's Wolfen to have a quick look around. Compared to his own, Leon's possessions were very neatly organized - a few smaller, inconsequential things tucked away in places and then two large metal briefcases containing what was appeared to be the rest. Most of it was pretty much in-line with that Wolf had expected and beyond the medical kit and rations he'd found, the rest would have to stay. The chameleon wouldn't need his nail file or eyeliner where they were going. Being thorough, Wolf thumbed through the kit to see what kind of stuff they could use. In addition to the normal things, it was curiously packed with an assortment of chemical heating pads – probably to be used in the event that his blood ran too cold during a mission. That's something you'd only find in a reptile's possession, that's for sure. The cold-blooded bastard always used "sharing body heat" as an excuse to be far more intimate than was necessary. Regardless, he stuffed the supplies away and proceeded to move on to the more "fun" bits.

                The captain pulled the first of two attaché cases into his lap and used a claw to undo the latches and flip it open - the sight he was greeted with was a treasure for sure. Wolf was graced by the presence of what he knew to be a very expensive long-range rifle, broken down into its components so that it could be transported. This was Leon's favorite kind of firearm (and Wolf's, for that matter), where instead of firing energy or plasma, it would fire a physical bullet propelled out of the barrel by gunpowder. These were heavier, more cumbersome, required more cleaning, took longer to load and a lot of skill to fire accurately, but the potential power was nothing short of devastating compared to the competition. There were a good number of shells to fire off in there too. On any other day he'd be hard pressed to leave a beauty like this behind but tragically, Wolf knew he lacked the bandwidth to take it with him. So with a disheartened huff he closed the lid again and hucked it into the back, turning his attention towards the second case.

                The rifle was definitely a nice gesture but it wasn't what he'd come looking for, anybody he might need to kill from far away would be better to just avoid. What he  _was_  looking for was something a bit more utilitarian. More specifically, his knife had proven to be an incredibly valuable asset so far but now was destroyed beyond any point of usability. Fortunately knives were something Leon kept on him in spades. As long as he'd known him for the chameleon always had an affinity for pointy things, back at home he had quite a vast collection of blades sourced from various planets in the Lylat System so it could only be assumed that there would be a few in his ship too. But the amount that Wolf found was unprecedented, to say the least. The second briefcase opened up to reveal what had to be twenty different knives, all neatly packed into a custom-cut foam insert.

                The choices here were numerous, there seemed to be something for any conceivable situation; fixed blades, manual opens, spring assisted, automatics… Some had heavy, intimidating blades while others had quick, discreet ones. While Leon appreciated all of them Wolf found himself to be a man of much simpler tastes, gravitating towards things that were more like him. Big and sturdy. Even still, he couldn't resist the temptation to play with the folding mechanism on one or two as he combed through, the mechanical clicking noise they made when snapped out of the handle and then back in again was too satisfying to ignore. Picking out a few particularly hardy looking knives, Wolf packed them away into his pockets and bag before returning the rest. Leaving any behind was a shame, but perhaps these things could be recovered later after the team made it out.

                Figuring that he was done here Wolf moved to leap out of the Wolfen but before he did, one last thing caught the corner of his blood-red eye. Something out of place taped to the left siding of the pilot's cabin in his blind spot, it looked like a picture. Making sure not to damage it Wolf peeled the tape off and brought it into the light so he could get a better look. A picture it was and an old one at that, featuring none other than himself and Leon. They were depicted together, standing side-by-side in a dimly lit marketplace that had to be somewhere on Venom. Wolf was looking sideways at the camera with a cigarette held to his lips while Leon smiled a toothy grin, both had plastic bags in their hands as if they'd just finished shopping. Wolf didn't remember this moment at all but judging by his apparent age… It had to have been taken before Star Wolf was formed. He never took any pictures of himself nor did he allow them to be taken of him, so this might be the only one that Leon owned. Out of respect for him, he put it somewhere safe in his bag before hopping out.

"Alright tough guy," The canine slung his backpack over his shoulders again as he walked back over to Leon's unconscious body, squatting down over him. As much as he wished he could stay here and rest just a little bit longer, time was the most valuable resource of them all and it was quickly running out. "I know it ain't easy but I need you to hang in there just a little bit longer. We'll get you the help you need, but first… The cat still needs us." Wolf re-tied his jacket around his waist and then gently used one arm to support his teammate's upper-back while the second slipped underneath his legs, slowly hoisting him up into a bridal carry. Limp as it was, Leon's tail was still touching the floor so being extra diligent not to let it drag, Wolf grabbed it and draped it over his shoulders before proceeding to carry him out the way he'd came. Together they left the wreckage behind as Wolf tried to forget about the trauma he'd endured, both physical and mental, and stay focused on the next leg of the mission.

_"Don't you worry Caroso, I'm coming for you next.."_


	3. Chapter 3

_"Shit, cat… What the hell did you get yourself into now? Goddamnit…"_

                A string of words spoken from a tired, hoarse throat belonging to a canine on his absolute last legs. His voice was laced with astonishment but he was too tired to express his emotions in any other significant way. Many hours had passed since leaving the dilapidated office complex behind and each proved substantially more grueling than the last. Wolf felt like he'd aged twenty years in just one day, muscles sapped of anything resembling strength and now operating on pure stubbornness alone. Now encumbered with the burden of lugging a second body with him he wasn't able to get around as quickly and unlike the first crash site he'd visited, the second and third he'd run across didn't have anything of comparable value. One was just a Cornerian fighter with a certainly dead pilot and the other a Venomian ship too buried in rubble to bother investigating.

                Concerningly, despite all of the time they'd been out in the sun for Leon hadn't shown any signs of consciousness. But his heart still beat and he felt warmer to the touch than he was earlier, some of the color had returned to his paled scales too. So perhaps it would just be a matter of time, might even be better for him this way – spared of the humiliation of being stuck out here like helpless animals. By this point the daylight was all but gone, streets coated in elongated shadows as the last few rays set under the horizon. There was still enough one to see their way around, but not for long. Wolf estimated another fifteen minutes before he'd have to bunker down for the night somewhere. Fortunately, fifteen minutes would be more than enough for him to piece together what transpired here.

                Before his tired form lay the remnants of the third and final Wolfen, the last missing member of Team Star Wolf. With such impeccable timing Wolf should have been more excited… But he wasn't. The ominous state the crash site was left in was going to be a lot for him to process. Cars had been tossed asunder as a large gash was left in the pavement from where the ship bottomed out and skidded to a full stop, its nose having met with the ground floor of some building and pushed the brick inwards. Looking on the bright side there weren't any stairs to conquer or heavy lifting to struggle through, but this was something far worse. Panther was nowhere to be found.

                The Wolfen's cockpit lid was turned all of the way upright and the inside of the glass was bespattered with old, dried up blood. Blood that had also run down the side of the ship's armor paneling as well in worryingly wide trails. Accompanying that were various scorch marks left around the immediate area in starburst patterns. Without a doubt a firefight had taken place here, but there weren't any corpses that he could see that would help clue him in on who was involved or who came out of top. Wolf let out a deep sigh as he finished his cursory glance around, he wanted to dive deeper but first something had to be done about this chameleon he'd been ferrying around on his back.

                The canine poked his head around the surroundings, getting a good feel for his location before deciding on a sufficiently safe spot Leon could be placed in for the short term. Behind an askew dumpster were some mostly empty old bags of trash, it wasn't exactly a throne and it certainly didn't smell nice, but after unpacking his space blanket and tossing it down as bedding it was more than habitable - this would have to work for now. Heaven forbid it came down to it but in the event of a stray passerby or Wolf's capture, this was out of the way and obscured enough that it wouldn't be easily found. Gently and carefully Wolf lowered the reptile off of his back and settled him into the crinkly metallic fabric, using whatever was left over to wrap over his side and legs to keep him warm. During which he prayed that he was just being overly cautious.

                Relieved of some of his physical burden, the investigative hound returned to the scene of the action intent on assessing the extent of the fight and where any survivors might've gone, lighting up a cigarette first to aid in his focus. There was no question that at least some of the blood here was Panther's, but if he did get taken down then he definitely didn't resign to his fate quietly - this place was a complete mess. Wolf executed a sharp leap up onto the body of the Wolfen so he could get a closer look at the inside; while the glass up top was painted over with speckles of blood, he was a bit surprised to see that outside of a stray droplet here and there, the pilot's cabin itself was almost entirely clean. Adding that with the side paneling being stained down with red streaks, it was a good indicator that this injury wasn't sustained until Panther had opened up to disembark. Whoever the attacker was might've been lurking outside for the right opportunity to strike, but that was only the beginning of untangling this web.

                Infrequent dots of blood trailed away from the Wolfen in a hurried, haphazard pattern that Wolf honed in on. As he tracked it across the barren street it became obvious that whoever got shot, probably Panther, definitely wasn't taken down after that first hit. In fact, they might've even been running at this time. But before the trail crossed all of the way to the other side of the road it took a detour that led to the next major clue. Not dissimilar to the one encountered at the ship itself, there was another large splattering of blood here decorating the concrete in a blooming pattern. There must have been a second impact right here, and it was angled in a way that whoever was responsible for it was behind the victim, standing in the area around the Wolfen. Whether it was a countering shot from the cat or another attack on him from his assailants was up in the air, but Wolf prayed for the former as he continued on. Now the trail grew in its potency, the blood ran thicker and was easier to follow. It finished traversing the street and mounted up over the curb before finally disappearing into a nearby alleyway.

                Normally Wolf would be quick to pursue, but he felt some hesitation now. What little was left of the sunlight was deep orange and while he was still capable of seeing on the large, open street this alleyway was a different story. It was pitch black, the small amount of light that seeped in was quickly consumed by the darkness and not only that, but it smelled disgusting to boot. The closer he drew the more his scent glands informed him that something was off; this was different than the anticipated aroma of forgotten, decaying garbage. It stank like iron, sharp against the nose and setting off the part of the brain that warned against impending danger. Not entirely sure what he was getting himself into, Wolf flicked his lit cigarette out of his mouth and unholstered his gun. The cautious dog did a double take back to eyeball Leon's hiding place, making sure he was safe before venturing forth into the awaiting unknown.

                Two-handing the pistol's grip Wolf took one careful step after another as he walked, moving slowly so he could feel with his boots. It was dead silent, to a point where he could hear his heart beating in his ears and each tap of his foot against the concrete. Each breath came with difficulties due to the overpowering stench dominating the air but with his vision reduced to nothingness, he had to take it in deep and follow his nose regardless. Before long the steel toe of his boot kicked against something soft on the ground, it didn't crinkle like a trash bag would. In fact it felt like a solid lump, a lump that was clearly out of place here in the middle of the cold pavement.

 _"Please, please don't be what I think you are…"_  Wolf mumbled to himself as he pulled his lighter out of his pocket. With the bloodstains out there and now this mysterious object here, it wasn't adding up to being something he wanted to see. With great hesitation he flicked his zip lighter open and snapped his fingers to ignite the wick. It produced a dim flame, not enough to carry further than a foot from the source so Wolf had to squat down to see what lay beneath him. The features of a body gradually came into view, proving that the warnings from his nose were not unfounded. But to his bewilderment it wasn't the feline he was expecting he'd see; it was a dog, a Cornerian dog not unlike those he'd seen earlier, laid out limp on the floor. He was crumpled into himself in a pool of his own semi-coagulated blood, a pain expression frozen on his poorly-lit face while the emblem of his home planet gallantly refracted back up into Wolf's single red eye.

 _"Goddamn, look at you."_  Wolf spoke to the dead as he mounted up over him, slipping his handgun back into its holster and placing the lighter down. Not sure of how much time he had to dwell on details he got straight to business, hands now free the canine proceeded to give him a thorough frisking.  _"Somebody messed you up big time, didn't they?"_  He patted him down all over, anywhere were something useful might be found; jacket, pockets, hip, thighs, etc and investigating each lump until finally finding what he was searching for. It was a small, albeit functional, LED flashlight. Most military carried them just in case and having passed up on the opportunity to steal one earlier, Wolf wasn't planning on making that mistake again, especially not now. Having been replaced in his hand by the newly acquired flashlight he flicked his lighter back closed and stuffed it into his pocket, drawing his pistol out again with the opposite paw as he stood back up. It was hard not to feel a little perturbed after being surprised by a corpse like that, so the canine took a moment to mentally re-center himself before flicking the light on and aiming the beam down the rest of the alley.

"Holy shit-" Finding himself startled at what lay before him Wolf couldn't help as his reaction was vocalized. The mystery of the stale, repugnant iron stench was uncovered and it definitely wasn't pretty. From wall to wall this place looked like it had been sloppily converted into a slaughterhouse, bricks that were already naturally colored red had been painted over with a chunky mixture of blood, viscera and fur. The same streaked over the trash that littered the area as well, painting a sickening picture and to cap it all off lying only a few meters from where Wolf currently stood was another body. This second body was dressed similarly to the first, with the sigil of his home planet valiantly reflecting the light off of his jacket as well.

                It's not that Wolf was unfamiliar with the sight of a corpse, he'd certainly seen more than his fair share in his days, but this one… This was particularly gruesome. He tried not to let his gaze linger on the details as he walked past but the entire right-half of this man's head appeared to be what was now on the walls, to put it gently. There wasn't really any question as to how this happened, however, as spent shotgun shells lining the cracks in the pavement told the story. He was well aware of how much the cat liked his shotguns. Passing through the carnage, the trail Wolf had been eyeing on his way in here picked up again and continued to lead him forwards for another dozen or so meters before ultimately bringing him face-to-face with a closed metal door. The push bar on which was adorned with a large, bloody handprint.

                There wasn't a doubt in the lupine's mind now that he was on the trail of exactly who he wanted and if his intuitions were right, he could have escaped to this building and be hiding within. Friendly or no, a cornered animal was a dangerous thing to surprise. He considered yelling out first as an alert that he was here, but decided against it in the off-chance that the two of them weren't alone. Being slow and cautious would be the best approach to avoiding any accidents. Wolf posted up on the side of the entrance with his back against the wall, still with his gun drawn but not anticipating the need to use it his finger was far from the trigger. His second hand was freed up by holding the flashlight in between his teeth instead of in his grasp, putting his palm on the bar handle.

_One…_

_Two…_

Wolf's tail flicked side-to-side anticipatorily and his tall grey canine ears were perked in high attention, taking a deep breath before the next count.

_Three._

                Gently and quietly he depressed the bar inwards to unlatch the door, proceeding to creep it open inch-by-inch in an effort to avoid any unnecessary noise when suddenly, without any warning, the fog of tension was pierced. Wolf was sent reeling backwards on his heels as an ear-shattering blast rang out; the center of the door he'd been so careful to handle was blown through and buckshot bored into the wall opposite, showering the surrounding area in a hail of brick and metal fragments. Wolf's arms instinctively covered his bandaged head for protection as he doubled over and without even a second to breathe the next shot followed up. This time it targeted the handle and completely obliterated the entire locking mechanism in the process, taking a huge chunk of the wall off with it.

 **"I KILLED YOUR FRIENDS YOU FILTHY MUTTS!"**  A raspy voice shouted out, Wolf's ears were ringing but he could still vaguely make it out. This taunt was accompanied by number three and this time the hinges were next to go, the top of the door completely removed from its mounting. It was loose now and swung wildly, ripped asunder and bent from the relentless onslaught taking place against it.  **"YOU'RE** **LIKE LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER!"**  Overbearing as it was this voice still sounded particularly desperate and even through his deafness, was one that Wolf knew far too well.

 **"PANTHER?!"** He shouted back as he clutched helplessly at his pained ears, **"PANTHER STOP, IT'S ME."**  He was concerned that his words would fall short amidst the chaos, but as the next moment passed without incurring any additional damage to his hearing he realized he might've actually been heard. Wolf gave it a minute before following up again. "Panther?"

"…Boss..?" This single utterance was spoken in a much different tone than was had before, meekness and uncertainty starkly contrasting against the fear-inducing shouting. "I… That can't be you."

"It is, cat." The canine affronted as he recovered his posture, believing the worst might be over. After that it didn't sound like number four would be on its way anytime soon. He rubbed at his ears some more with a paw, picking up the handgun he'd dropped in alarm. "I'd show myself to you but I didn't come all this way to get my head blown apart. Just – put the gun on the floor, okay?" He felt like that was a fair request but it was immediately obvious that the other party didn't agree, the sound of the next shell being manually racked proved it.

"I'm not a fool, I'll-" The next few words were interrupted by a particularly brutal sounding cough, lasting for an unhealthy couple of seconds. "I'll come over there… I'll come and kill you for trying to fool me."

"I'm not trying to fool you, you ingrate! It's-"

"Shut your  **FILTHY MOUTH.** " Wolf flinched at his booming voice, a low growl building in his throat. "Wolf is dead and don't you DARE impersonate him."

"Goddamnit cat you need to calm down, you're delirious-"

"ONE MORE WORD AND I'LL COME SHOW YOU WHERE YOUR TEAMMATES WENT."

                He sounded dead serious about that and the last thing Wolf wanted was the extent of his efforts culminating in a firefight with the individual he'd come to rescue. He had to prove himself in some way that wouldn't result in Panther's gun ventilating his chest and there was only one way that came to mind. So the dog did what he did best. Without hesitation his maw opened wide and bellowed out the loudest, most attention-commanding bark he could muster from his exhausted lungs. He bayed out, announcing his overbearing presence and letting it reverberate off of the walls into the night. To the unexpecting such a raw, feral sound coming from a single man like that was prone to instill shock, this time was no exception. Like a verbal slap to the face Panther was quieted in an instant and remained such for minutes. Wolf waited.

"…I can't… You weren't fooling me, were you?" The cat's voice cracked as he spoke again, "Wolf… I don't- I don't believe it."

"I know you don't, now put your gun on the ground before I come wrestle it out of those big mitts of yours." This time his demand was met with immediate obedience, resulting in a heavy metallic object clattering against the concrete somewhere inside. Wolf fulfilled his end of things too, stuffing his gun back into its holster. "Am I safe to come in now?"

"Please, please…" These words came across as earnest but Wolf still intended on playing it safe, his partner wasn't exactly in a lucid state of mind and not much out there was more dangerous than a close to seven foot tall, over three hundred pound jungle cat when he's scared and has nowhere to run. Cautiously the captain walked around the corner with a calm demeanor, holding his hands up high to demonstrate that he was unarmed. But with his light off he couldn't see a thing, it was pitch black inside and Panther himself being pitch black didn't exactly help either.

"Alright cat, I know you can see in here but I can't. I don't wanna startle you but I got a flashlight here and I'm gunna turn it on to help me, okay?"

"I understand."

                With that out of the way Wolf flicked his stolen Cornerian flashlight back on again and held it up in his hand. Newly illuminated, he found himself standing in the entrance to what looked to be some kind of storage room that one might find in the back of a warehouse. It was decorated with sheet-metal shelves with piles of boxes stacked up here and there, and right in the middle of it all… There he was. Front and center the cat lay on the floor, upper back propped up against some of the left-out merchandise. His yellow eyes were vibrant in the light with pupils as wide as dinner plates, one could see the wild desperation in his face. The feline spent his life living stoically and withholding emotion, this was the first time Wolf had seen something resembling real anguish reflected in him. It was sad. Blood he'd been tracking was streaked from the doorway all of the way over to where he now rested, not all of it was old.

"You really came for me, Boss…" His voice was weak now, having put away the tough façade intended for those who opposed him. Any pretenses of safety were dropped now as Wolf hurried over to his teammate's side, noting the shotgun and spent shell shells smoking on the floor nearby.

"Well I wouldn't be much of a boss if I didn't…" He spoke as he dropped down to his knees over the cat's incapacitated frame, his bag tossed off to the side. There was no time to get emotional, Wolf needed to assess the cat's status as quickly as possible so he could try and treat him. He swallowed any feelings he had about this and immediately started running through a field examination, looking his partner up and down with the light to check for open wounds and bleeding. It wasn't easy, there was blood everywhere. "Shit Panther, what did they do to you? Where are you hurt? Point for me." This request was met with a labored sigh from the feline's quivering chest, his unfocused vision trailed off of his rescuer's face. A smile still graced his lips, however.

"I… It doesn't matter. I hoped I would live long enough to see you again, but I'm afraid… I'm afraid that's the most I could've hoped for. Just look at me, this… This is the end of the line." But Wolf wasn't about to tolerate that kind of nonsense. He grabbed Panther's chin with two of his fingers and made the cat look him directly into his single red eye, demonstrating his intense fervor.

"I didn't ask for a goddamn sob story. Show me where they hurt you, now. That's an order." Panther's eyes had a touch of water in them, his words met with the silence of contemplation. Eventually the lumbering feline did as instructed. A claw was used to point out two different spots on his body.

"Here…" He said, gesturing first towards the right leg of his pilot's suit. It had a wide tear in the thigh, surrounding fabric soaked straight through with cat blood. "And here." While his first injury was certainly concerning on its own this one made it look like a scratch in comparison. Right in the gut, and it had been freely bleeding this entire time. Without intervention those kinds of wounds won't close on their own, there's so much flow to the area that blood refuses to coagulate. It doesn't kill you immediately, but after a few minutes even the strongest of men would probably wish they were dead. Lord knows how long he'd been here like this and even now it puddled up on him, soaking all of his fur and clothing to an unrecognizable degree. Wolf tried not to let the concern show in his face.

"…You look like hell but I've seen you worse. I'm here now, so you're going to be okay." He tried to inspire confidence but wasn't certain if he himself believed his own words, either way he was going to give it his all. Wolf put the small flashlight in his jaws and started to rummage around his gear, trying to throw together a makeshift way he could stop this torrent of blood. Gut wounds couldn't exactly be isolated with a tourniquet and a bandage alone would be soaked through in seconds. Panther coughed.

"I look like hell?" He spoke, even now managing to express himself with a coy smirk. "You're one to talk… I can smell you from here."

"Yeah?" Wolf replied, he was hurriedly fidgeting with something just outside of his teammate's view. "Maybe the smell will motivate you to learn how to stand again, so you can get the hell away from me." The cat gave off an absent chuckle.

"I'm… I'm not so sure about that captain."

"Well you're gunna need some kind of motivator because I sure as shit can't lug your big ass out of here all on my own. What do you want, tuna? Gin? Pussy? Pretend it's right outside that door you blew to pieces."

"Hah… I appreciate the brevity but… My body, it disobeys me."

"Well it's not going to disobey me." As he spoke he started to feel up the first injury on his teammate's leg, it would be the easier one to patch up so might as well get that out of the way. It appeared that Panther had already attempted to stifle the circulation as well, his belt removed and tied around his upper-thigh in a bid for just a bit more time. This one would be quick. He tried to keep the cat distracted as he got to work cutting a large enough hole in the surrounding pant leg. "What the hell happened to you anyways? Talk to me."

"Firearms, Cornerian firearms." Panther grumbled as he mentally recounted the events, one of his paws balling into a loose fist. "I… Don't know how long I was out for after crash landing, but it must have been a significant amount of time. When I awoke I wasn't thinking clearly… I tried to disembark without checking all of my surroundings and... Got taken advantage of." His eyes closed, "They were already there and when I stepped from the cockpit I was shot to the ground. There were two of them and when they came over to secure me, I toppled both over and ran. That's when I was shot a second time… Down there. But it was too late, I was already to my feet and it wasn't enough to put me down. I kept moving until I was down the alleyway and by the time they'd collected themselves and pursued me, my shotgun was out the scabbard." A stressed breath came out of the cat's nostrils, "I'm sure you saw what became of them after that." He opened his eyes again only to realize that Wolf had taken his own belt off and was offering it up to him, folded over a few times. The leather was unmistakably thick. "…What's this?"

"Bite it, cat." Wolf's words were muffled by the flashlight he held in his maw. "If you know what's good for you."

"Captain, I'd hate for my last gift to you to be a ruined belt."

"Your loss." Wolf dropped it in his lap and didn't waste another second; immediately afterwards a sharp, searing pain burned into the cat's exposed leg wound, causing him to caterwaul in surprise.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Panther swore loudly, face wincing and body shivering as he reeled from the shock. Looking down he saw his captain holding a knife in his hand, it was smoldering at the tip and coated in a mixture of burnt fur and blood.

"I thought you were a big man, Panther. Stop mewling like a kitten." Wolf spoke. He quickly tossed the knife aside and secured the freshly cauterized wound with gauze and a wrapping of bandage tape. The makeshift tourniquet was left on, just in case. "You've been bleeding here for how long now?"

"I don't know, the time… I've mostly lost track of it." Either way his answer was moot, Wolf just wanted to keep him distracted with talking as he moved on to the next task. A bigger job required a bigger tool so the canine pulled out a different knife, one with a wide, broad tip to it intended for slicing. He started to cut the clothing off around Panther's stomach injury.

"Look, I'm going to go in for round two on your gut here. I know you've got big balls but unless they've grown three sizes since the last round, you might want to bite down this time."

                If anybody else talked to him in this way they'd be eating mush out of a straw for the rest of their lives, but Wolf was Wolf and despite his rock-hard demeanor Panther knew he was only trying to make him laugh. Having learned his lesson the first time around he nodded his head in agreement at his captain's assessment and did as he was told. Prior to stuffing the belt in between his razor-sharp teeth he folder it back over itself a handful of times, getting the leather nice and thick so it'd fill out his maw. Panther observed as his captain got to work wiping away as much blood as he could from the area with some spare cloth. Eventually, Wolf noticed his gaze.

"No, no you look away." The disheveled lupine instructed, "If you watch it'll just make things hurt more. Put your hand over your eyes." Panther wanted to retort but his voice was stifled by the garment, so instead he just sighed and did exactly that. It was humiliating, but there was no point in arguing with the Boss. This time he could hear as the lighter was snapped on.

"When I'm ready here I'm gunna count up to three and when I hit three, I'm gunna do it. Understand?" Wolf looked down at the wound, he'd just wiped away whatever he could but it was quickly flooding with blood all over again, each breath the cat took welled up more. It was astounding how much loss the big guy was able to suffer and still be hanging in here like this, any smaller man would most assuredly be dead by now. He'd have to get this done quickly, fortunately being exposed so closely to the open flame meant the blade was already beginning to glow. Panther couldn't see or speak, but he nodded in bitter agreement.

"Alright… I'm gunna start counting down now."

                But that was a lie. As soon as he'd finished his sentence the canine jammed the red-hot flat of the knife against the walls of the open abdominal wound to burn the damaged vessels sealed. While the leg injury was a one-and-done situation this was significantly larger and wetter, so it took more to finish the job. He had to pull the blade back a couple times to reheat it before reapplying to make sure it all got done evenly. Wolf hated to say that any part of this was a positive, but at the very least Panther's dense ab muscles looked to have absorbed a lot of the shock that would have otherwise done far more damage to his organs. That might've explained how he was left alive here for so long.

                Panther squirmed and strained as the process dragged on, feet scratching at the concrete floor while his incisors made short work of Wolf's expensive belt. He wanted to wail out his agony but his muzzle being stuffed meant that he was saved from that embarrassment, as only heavily muffled whines could bleed through. But after an agonizing minute or two, it was over. Wolf had cauterized it to the best of his ability out here in the field and moved to wrap packing gauze in it next, having to use what little was left of their bandages in the process.

"There, there. Stop your sobbing and relax - you're all done. What, do you want me to kiss it and make the pain go away too?" He tried to inject some brevity into their grave situation as it was finished off, using a pin from the medical kit to hold the tape to itself. With his face still contorted in anguish Panther spat the chewed-up remains of the belt out onto his lap.

"That… That's what I think of that idea." The feline replied as he motioned towards the damage he'd done. Wolf's belt was completely ruined, shredded to bits and wholly unusable. His captain snickered.

"I needed a new one anyways. Look-" Wolf lifting himself up to his knees and leaned in close to his teammate until their noses were only about an inch apart, placing a hand on the back of the cat's head to keep him focused. Any air of jovialness he'd tried to maintain to this point was out the window, the look on his face turning grim. "You're  _going_  to live, but only if we can get out of here together. I know you want to try and be a hero who sacrifices himself or whatever, but I'm not moving an inch without you at my side. If you want to save me, and by extension Leon, you need to get to your feet." Panther sighed a deep breath, he was ashamed of his vulnerable state and did whatever he could to avoid looking Wolf in the eye. "Even on my best day I couldn't carry you, so I know damn well I can't do it now."

"O'Donnell…" The jungle cat's words came out softly, "That… That's not happening right now. I'm sorry, it can't be stated enough how sorry I am. But I'm too fatigued to go on my own." Panther was never one to reject a direct command before, it sounded like he was speaking from a genuine place. Wolf stroked a thumb-claw over the back of his teammate's neck fur sympathetically. Maybe… Maybe there was a compromise that could be made. He took a moment to review his personal situation, something that had been neglected in the sake of getting here; Wolf was covered from head to toe in sweat, smoke, dirt and a copious amount of blood – both his own and that from many others. His formerly black tank top was not much more than stained, tattered ruins now and if he wasn't careful the rest of him might be soon to follow. He was itchy all over, matted, hungry and some of his muscles were so strained that focusing on them for even a couple of seconds was unbearably painful. Staying here would be a risk, especially with everything that had been left outside, but maybe that was a risk they could incur just for a short while.

"Yeah… I'm tired too cat, believe me. I've been tired for hours now." He slumped down off of his knees and onto his tail-end, sitting opposite from where Panther rested. "We need to get you out of here and find some real medical help, but… I guess, maybe we can catch our breath. Just for a minute. Maybe, maybe we've earned that much…"

"I'd never ask for it, but thank you Boss. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about all of this."

"That's the last time I want to hear you apologize to me."

"…Yes captain."

The next minute was spent in silence as the two looked to their feet, unsure of what was to come next. Both sat in agony – but agony that was lessened by the presence of the other.

"Where's the chameleon? You've found him, correct? Is he okay?"

"He's alive. That's about the most I can say about him. He's been unconscious since I picked him up, it's been hours now. I think it's just whiplash but… Skinny little reptile must have gotten shaken bad. I hid him in a safe spot outside before coming in, you going to be okay if I go grab him?"

"I… I think so."

                Wolf knew that the decision he'd made wasn't the smartest one for the sake of the team's safety, but after a grueling day of forcing his body and mind far beyond any reasonable limits compounded against a lifetime spent doing the same, maybe it would be okay to sit down. Just for the night. Before long Wolf came back inside carrying Leon in tow, cradling his chameleon in his arms. For once in his life, Panther felt elation at the sight of him. He and Leon would argue and squabble all of the time when aboard their ship, sometimes it even felt like the runt would do it on purpose just to get under his skin. But out here like this… He realized how much he still appreciated his presence.

                While Powalski never woke up in this span of time his presence was still felt as the two other teammates bonded, Wolf orally recounting his exploits he had to partake in to get here in one piece. Leon rested silently in between them, nested on a bedding of spare clothing with both a cat and dog tail draped over him for warmth. Rations were split amongst them to be eagerly consumed and while Panther wasn't a smoker by any means, he made an exception to partake in Wolf's indulgence to whittle away the long hours before the sun would break in a new day. As the evening grew older he eventually fell asleep. Wolf looked on almost in envy; as much as he wanted to, as much as his body begged him to, his resolve was too strong. So he stayed up through the night, silently guarding that which was his. These two animals were the only things in this entire godforsaken galaxy that he loved and he planned to keep them safe no matter what. Even if it killed him.


End file.
